by Peyton Banks
I put my stuff on my desk near the door and ran my hand along the couch. My new couch; a small loveseat in a teal blue tweed fabric. I walked into the kitchen and rounded the island to peek in the refrigerator. I grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of granola out of the pantry and returned to my couch. I flipped on the television.
When I moved in, I spent the first two nights on the floor in the neighbor’s kids’ sleeping bags and pillows. I ordered pizza that first night and grabbed a bottle of champagne from the bodega on the corner. I ate and drank them both. The pizza never tasted so good, and the champagne bubbles tickled my nose and made me laugh. The night ended with me full and drunk. I threw it all up in the middle of the night. It was the best night of my adult life.
I warmed from the memory. Brooklyn offered me the opportunity to start a new life.
It would please my mother—I made friends.
O was my friend. I claimed him. I wish I knew his full name.
It could stand for O my God, the most gorgeous man in the world. Or O my God, could he have any more muscles? Perhaps it was O my God, those dark brooding eyes and strong distinguished nose.
He had invaded my fantasies for weeks and now we were talking.
Snap out of it, Shani. It was barely a conversation.
I shook my head and giggled.
Music came through the open window. I scanned up and down the street. My eyes fell in his direction. I wondered where he was off to today. What did he do? Did he use those muscles in his work? I hated not knowing anything about him. I could ask Jim.
It was a beautiful day. I should take advantage of it.
I changed into workout gear and grabbed my earbuds and my phone.
As I hit the second floor, Anna, my neighbor, came out with her youngest in her arms.
“Hey, Shani.” She waved.
“Hi.” I reached out and pinched her son’s little chubby arms. He giggled and hid his face in the crook of his mom’s neck. I could never get their names straight. I knew they were Jamal and Jemil, but I couldn’t remember who was what.
Her kids were biracial, Anna was Caucasian and her husband Jeremy was black. He was nice and adored his wife.
“Where y’all heading to?” I scooted past her.
“Taking Jamal to the doctor for his shots.” She sang the phrase. “He is going to be a good boy for Mommy or I’m going to leave him at the doctor’s office.” She continued her little made-up song.
I laughed.
“Anytime you need me to babysit, let me know.” I skipped down the final flight of stairs. She followed.
“I appreciate it.” She nodded.
I held the front door open for her. She walked through and into a waiting SUV.
“Hey, Shani.” Jeremy sat in the driver seat. He waved.
I waved back.
“Babe, what took you so long?” He held his hand up. “We’re going to be late.”
She paused for a second to lay a death stare at him before opening the back door.
“Have a good run.” She got Jamal in his car seat, shut the door, and exhaled a sigh of relief. I smiled. She threw me a half smile back and a wink before climbed in the truck.
A ping in my heart made me clutch my chest. I wanted a family. A husband who I could be openly annoyed with and not get in trouble. A kid to adore, spoil and pawn off on my husband when life overwhelmed me. I wasn't allowed to be tired, down, off, or lazy, sleepy or sick. I blinked back tears and took off towards the park.
Mid morning, people were at work. I jogged a few blocks and didn't pass a soul. I enjoyed running but hadn’t done it enough lately. My ass had grown larger in the last six months. I had a flat stomach and a skinny waist. My breasts were a nice size, but all my faults fell to my ass.
I increased my pace and pushed harder. Waiting for the endorphins to kick in, they were harder to come by lately. As I came close to sweet relief, I rounded the corner and skidded to a stop.
Across the street, half block away, O stood near the entrance of a fire station.
His back was to me.
I sat on the edge of a bus stop bench across the street. It gave me a great view of his backside, which was damn near perfect in those dark jeans.
I didn’t take him as a fireman. He didn’t seem like the hero type. Although his broad frame and muscles screamed protector. He stood on the street talking to three guys in matching blue T-shirts and black slacks.
Was he off-duty today? He was in the same jeans and T-shirt he wore this morning.
I hunched down and watched. He placed a hand on one of the guy’s shoulders. The guy was a few inches shorter. He looked up at him with admiration. O had authority over the men. Was he their captain?
My very own Captain America.
The men in my past were far from heroes. Made me skeptical, but I understood why I felt so comfortable with him.
The man with the dark brooding eyes, I could trust. He fought fires and saved people’s lives for a living.
I couldn’t have created him better if I’d tried.
3
Oscar
I woke up the next morning disoriented. Not because I didn’t get any sleep. I slept like a baby. The nightmares stayed away.
I had sweet dreams about my cute new friend. Innocent dream like us arguing over the merits of the Avengers movies and not so innocent dreams, too. I woke up too soon, frustrated with a raging hard-on in my boxers. I turned my head, and my neck cracked.
The time on the clock read seven o’clock.
I pushed the covers off, pressed on my cock to calm it down, and jumped out of bed. The cold shower helped. I dressed and was out the door in twenty minutes.
As I exited my building, one of my dreams flashed in my brain. I had rescued Shani from a burning building. With fire and smoke all around, she remained beautiful with her loose curls framing her face and not a stain on her angelic white dress. I had cradled her in my arms and jogged down twenty flights of stairs while staring into her gorgeous brown eyes.
I shook my head.
My lips tingled thinking how soft hers were in my dream.
I quick-stepped towards the coffee shop. It was a short eight-minute walk, and five if I jogged. I was anxious to see her. Did her eyes smile today or had the sadness returned?
My chest tightness in my chest game me some relief today. I took any victory I could get these days. A twenty-pound weight sat on my chest most days. For moments, I could ignore it or it wasn’t as heavy, but it was always there. The proverbial weight of the world on my chest.
I walked the same route every morning and spotted fire hazards along the way. Nothing anyone needed to address, but my brain assessed the danger of any situation. A stack of trash in an alley, a kid walking too close to the curb, the world was full of accidents waiting to happen.
It wasn’t my job to save people anymore. I was equal parts relieved and anxious.
When I turned the corner, I spotted her. At the same table outside but facing me. Her head was down, and shoulders hunched over her keyboard. She looked up and leveled me with a smile.
I smiled back.
She picked up her phone and her eyebrow shot up.
“You’re late.” She set the phone back on the table.
“Stealing people’s coffee again.” I pointed to the two cup behind her computer.
“I saved you a few sips.” She pushed the cup in my direction.
I lifted it and sniffed.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t order you anything frou-frou.” She smirked.
I laughed and took a sip.
“What does the O stand for?” She pointed to my cup.
“Oscar Hunt.”
“Shani Rogers.” She nodded.
She pushed the chair opposite her out with her foot.
“Take a seat.” She motioned towards the chair. “Unless you have a fire to fight or something.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“I was out on a run yesterday and saw you in front o
f the firehouse.” She pointed over her shoulder.
“I see.”
“I admit I didn’t get fireman from you. You don’t look like the hero type.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She had no idea. I sat down across from her.
“You don’t like being called a hero?” She rested her chin in her hands.
“Naw.” I shook my head. “Save that hero shit for your superheroes.”
“Isn’t that what firemen are?” She licked her lips. “Superheroes without the cape.”
“No, we aren’t,” I snapped.
She sat back and wrung her hands together.
“I’m sorry.” I rubbed my face.
“No, it’s okay.” She nodded. “Here I thought I was being charming.” She faked a pout which made her lips more pronounced. My urge to kiss them increase. “All I wanted to do was share a cup of coffee with a nice guy.”
“I’m retired.” I exhaled. “And, I’m not that nice.”
“Neither am I.” Her cheeks brightened in a blush.
“You’re very direct, aren’t you?” I narrowed my eyes. Was it an act?
“I try to be.” She looked at her computer, frowned, and closed the lid. “It’s this new thing I’m doing. To be more authentic. Real and present. Try new things.” She did quotation marks with her fingers.
“Wow,” I chuckled, “very hipster of you. You’re in the right place.”
“Is that an insult or a compliment?”
“Compliment.” I rubbed my chin. “Are you new to Brooklyn?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “About six months, you?”
“Almost two years.”
“Where d’you come from?”
“Texas.”
“San Diego, California.” Shani sipped her coffee.
“Running to or from something?”
She choked and covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry. That was out of line.” I regretted seeing the smile fall from her face.
“It wasn’t out of line, but kind of rude to ask a stranger.” The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. “A little of both. You?”
“Same.” I shrugged.
“You have a past?” She leaned forward.
“Don’t we all?”
She looked past me. I struck a cord. I didn’t want to turn her off or make her shut down. What brought her here, alone? What was she into? Why was this beautiful woman so sad?
“You want to talk about it?” I tilted my head to catch her gaze.
I brought the cup to my mouth. A smile curled the side of hers.
“How about we save that conversation for the third or fourth date?”
It was my turn to choke on my coffee. My throat closed. I set the cup down and coughed into the crook of my elbow.
“I’m sorry.” Once she controlled her giggles, she handed me a napkin.
“We’re dating?” I asked.
She bit her lip to keep from exploding into another fit of laughter.
“Relax.” She reached out and touched my hand. My skin tingled from her touch. “No assumptions, remember?”
“Yes. I remember.” I laid my hand on the table, hoping she would touch it again. “Although, you have to agree we have a certain rapport.”
“Rapport?”
“Chemistry maybe?” I leaned forward.
“An unidentifiable connection.” She leaned forward. “That sounds about right.”
“Unidentifiable connection,” I repeated her cadence. My voice laced with skepticism. What was she getting at?
She sat back and exploded in giggles.
I slumbered back in my chair.
Her giggles stopped.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” She barely contained herself. “O,” she grabbed my arm, “don’t be mad.”
She said my name like we’d been friends for years. I liked it.
“Shani.” I grabbed her wrist and squeezed. “It’s been real but—”
“I’m keeping you from someplace.” She pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry.”
“You apologize a lot.”
“What?”
“You’ve said you’re sorry like three times in the last,” I peeked at my watch, “five minutes.
“Habit.” She nodded and sat back. She leaned forward again. “Do I make you nervous?” Her eyes grew wide as she waited on my answer.
“Yes.” Nervousness made as much sense as any other emotion. “Do I make you nervous?”
“Kind of.” She nodded and leaned back in her seat. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.
I averted my gaze and checked out the street traffic behind her.
She turned and looked.
When she turned back, her throat hitched, and she looked away.
“You are really beautiful.”
She blinked, and her eyes cast downward. I recognized the look—it was the sad eyes. They gutted me.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She picked at a piece of lint on her jeans.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who can’t take a compliment.” I wanted to reach out and caress her face, but I had gone too far.
She put her feet on the ground and leaned forward. She hugged herself.
“I can take a compliment.” She tilted her head and looked up. “I just haven’t heard many lately.” She scratched her nose. “Do me a favor?” Her gaze bore into mine.
“Anything.”
“Tell me now if the compliment comes with any expectations.” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s been a long time since I did this.”
“Did what?”
“Flirted with a guy.”
I rubbed my nose. Her eyes grew wide.
I sat back.
“You call that flirting?” I smirked.
She hit my forearm.
“I’m giving you my best stuff.” She giggled and sat back. We stared into each others eyes. Her eyes remained bright, and the smile on my face felt nice if not a little unfamiliar.
“You are beautiful. No expectation or quid pro quo expected.” I winked.
“You’re beautiful too.” Her words rushed together. She blushed and dropped her gaze to her keyboard. “Don’t you need to be someplace?”
I scooted my chair back.
“Okay.” I nodded. “I know when I’m being asked to leave.”
“Now that you know I’m a little strange.” She grabbed my hand. “When tomorrow comes and you grab your coffee and continue walking by, I’ll understand.”
I leaned over and brought her fingers to my lips.
“When I see you tomorrow for coffee, I’ll be obligated to stop.” I kissed her fingers. She stiffened, her eyes focused on my lips. “You’re so cute, I won’t be able to stop myself. No matter how strange you appear to be.”
I laid her hand on the table, picked up my coffee, and tapped her shoulder as I walked away.
Halfway down the block, I turned and found her watching me again.
I winked and headed home.
4
Oscar
Our morning coffee time grew longer as the weeks passed. I had to prepare myself for sparring with Shani. Our conversation left me exhausted. I couldn’t imagine missing them. I enjoyed being around her. Liked looking at her.
She pushed my buttons, and I pushed hers back. The connection thing wasn’t so ridiculous.
Dating?
We skirted over the subject and didn’t return. Fine by me. I was in no position to date anyone. From the vibe I got from Shani, neither was she. Nothing wrong with harmless flirting.
It was coffee and good conversation, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t have to marry the girl.
When I thought about her, I smiled. I saw her everywhere, too.
That was weird.
On the subway, a young girl sitting next to me had Shani’s laugh. I spent the afternoon at the Academy talking with a few new cadets. One of them had the same hair color and wore it similar to Shani.
I keep staring at her. Not creepy at all.
With Shani I needed to keep the creepy to a minimum, too.
Discussions about our past and future remained vague and dismissive. Ironically, we found plenty to discuss. Our conversations flowed, and we often lost track of time. We had fun, enjoyed each other. No need to fouled it up with romance. We both desperately needed a friend.
And every morning for weeks, both of us kept showing up.
I came around the corner, and my heart stopped in my chest. She wasn’t there.
Why isn’t she there?
I checked the time on my watch. 7:25 am. She should be here by now.
I broke into a fast walk and made it to the corner in record time. My heart kick started when I saw her inside at a table in the back. I hid my smile and pushed open the door.
The booths in the back were prime real estate and always full. She must have snagged one early. She had her face buried in her laptop, our coffees sitting on the table next to each other.
I slid into the booth opposite her.
She gasped.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
I grinned and took my coffee, blew on the rim, and took a sip.
“What are you working on?”
“A project for school.” She shut the laptop before I could see it.
“What type of project?” I laid my hand flat on the table.
“A flyer for a restaurant.”
“Oh cool.” I touched the laptop. “Show me.”
She snatched the laptop back.
“I’ll show it to you when I’m ready to show it to you.” She cocked her head to the side.
“I’m just curious what has you so engrossed day after day.” I held my hands up in surrender. “What wakes you up in the morning, Shani? What are you passionate about?”
“It’s a little early for life-assessing questions.”
I frowned and took a sip of my coffee. I waited for it to hit my bloodstream before opening my mouth. The silence grew uncomfortable.
We were starting off on the wrong foot again.
I didn’t have the energy for it today. The nightmares had returned the last couple of nights. My heart missed Lizzy, the weight getting heavier. The department psychiatrist at my old station diagnosed me with anxiety due to survivor’s guilt. Enjoying life again made me sick to my stomach. If Lizzy didn’t get to laugh, flirt, and have warm feelings about someone, neither should I.